


Monstrous March(SFW)

by MonsterSmut



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Human/Monster Romance, Human/Vampire Relationship, M/M, Monsters, Reader-Insert, Sea monster, fairy tale, vampire, vodyanoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 03:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16845955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonsterSmut/pseuds/MonsterSmut
Summary: My non-explicit monster stories for Monstrous March on tumblrOriginally posted on howtobangyourmonster on tumblr





	1. Vampire

**Author's Note:**

> A pair of non-explicit stories from Monstrous March, the first is a reader-insert concerning a vulnerable vampire and the woman who saves her, and the second a tragic fairy tale about a vain young man.

You could hear the laughter all the way down the street. It wasn’t the happy, carefree laughter of children, or the soft laughter of lovers, no. It was the hard, cruel laughter of someone inflicting pain on another. The laughter of people enjoying the torment of another. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you rounded the corner.

It was a group of teenagers standing in a circle, around what you couldn’t see. They were taunting whoever or whatever they had trapped, singing jeering songs and poking it with sticks.

“HEY!” you shout. “Stop that! Get away!”

The kids turn to look at you, apathetic and vaguely menacing.

“Fuck off!” one of them shouts.

You pull out your cellphone. “Fine, then I’m calling the cops, asshole.”

The teenagers grudgingly begin to disperse. You keep your phone ready and glare at them until they’re gone. Turning back to where they had cornered…whatever it was, you gasp. The figure is standing stick-straight, their pale green skin almost luminous in the dawning light. Their arms were outstretched in front of them in a mockery of the “Frankenstein” pose, a strip of paper with Chinese writing hanging from their forehead.

“Those little jackasses!” you mutter to yourself. You approach what you now recognize as a vampire cautiously. “Hey, you look like you could use some help…”

The vampire hops on one leg, stiffly turning their body to face you, their face stuck in a rictus smile. You gingerly reach out and snatch the paper from the vampire’s forehead. Immediately, they collapse to the ground.

“Thank you,” they say softly, “they’d been tormenting me for hours.”

Your heart breaks at that. You crumple the paper charm in your hand. It was kind of a fad, to trap a vampire with a jiangshi charm, forcing them to adopt the stiff corpse pose, stuck until the charm was removed. People made mean-spirited memes and posted pictures and videos to their Instagram. It was sickening.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“I’ll be fine, I’m just a little weak.” the vampire half smiles at you, her sharp teeth shining. “I think they meant to keep me trapped until sunrise…”

“Shit, the sun’s almost up, how far is your place?”

“Too far.”

“Come with me, my home’s just around the corner.” you slip one arm around her waist, mindful of her long skirt, and help her to her feet. She leans heavily on you as you walk back to your apartment.

At the door, you try to pull her through, but she resists. “You have to invite me in, you have to say it out loud.”

“Oh, right, sorry. Please come in!”

She smiles again and lets you help her to your couch. “Thank you for doing this, you’re very kind.”

“What? No, I’m doing what anyone would do…”

“No,” she levels a look at you, “you’re not. Most people would have turned the other way.”

“Well, most people are assholes then.” you smirk. She laughs softly, the laugh turning into a cough. “Shit, you need to feed, don’t you?”

“I’ll be fine until this evening when I can get back home. I have a friend there who will let me feed from him.”

She doesn’t look fine. She looks weak, trembling like an autumn leaf in the wind.

“Hey, um, if you need to, it’s okay…” you start to offer.

“No, I wouldn’t ask that of you. You don’t even know me. You’ve done enough.” she waves you off.

“I don’t mind, really, I donate blood all the time.”

She gives you a skeptical look. “You’ve never been fed on by a vampire, have you?”

It’s a statement, not a question. You swallow, suddenly self-conscious.

“Well, no, but…”

“It’s not like donating blood. There’s a connection that forms. I’d be able to see into your mind, I won’t invade your privacy like that. It’s not a casual thing.” she states.

You sit down next to her. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Evelyn.” she says.

“It’s nice to meet you, Evelyn.” you smile, and introduce yourself. “There, now we’re not strangers. Look, I can tell you’re really weak, I volunteer at the free clinic and I’ve worked with a lot of vampires who come through when they’re in a bad way, and you’re in a bad way. Will you let me help you?”

She regards you thoughtfully for a long moment, her pale eyes piercing. With a resigned exhale, she nods. “Alright, yes. I will accept your offer. Thank you, I appreciate the…vulnerable spot this puts you in, I won’t abuse it.”

“I believe you.” you reply. You roll up your sleeve and offer your arm to her. “My veins are best on this arm.”

She smiles at you and takes your arm, feeling along the crook of your elbow. You don’t mind having blood taken, but you don’t have the stomach to watch either. You close your eyes and feel a sharp sting before your senses are flooded with something else entirely. There’s a scent of lilac and ozone, and then flashes of…is that a garden? Sunlight, a laughing girl, skin, soft downy hair, oh yes…

Suddenly it’s gone. You look up at Evelyn, who is shaking with heavy breaths, one hand clamped down over your arm where she’d bitten you, her eyes wild and wary.

“What did you do?” she demands.

“I…I didn’t…” you try to answer.

“How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“See me? How did you see into my mind?” she asks, almost angrily. “You’re not supposed to be able to do that.”

“I wasn’t trying to, I’m sorry…” you say. “Who was that girl?”

Evelyn lets go of your arm, her expression turning somber and regretful. “That was Charlotte. We were best friends, we were…back when I was human, I was…”

“You were in love with her.” you finish.

Evelyn sighs. “Yes. We were in love. But I lost her, when I was turned.”

You want to ask more, but the sadness in Evelyn’s voice stops you. That’s a wound you don’t want to poke at. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, it was a very long time ago. Even if I hadn’t been turned she’d be dead by now. We both would.”

“So that’s unusual then, for the mind…thing, to go both ways?” you ask.

“Yes, I’ve never actually heard of that happening before. It’s very disconcerting.” she replies.

“Oh.” you say. You sit in silence for a while, both lost in your own heads. “I liked it.”

Evelyn looks up at you. “What?”

“The mind sharing. I liked it. It felt nice. What did you see in my mind?”

“A state fair. Cotton candy and the lights on the Ferris wheel and the music from the carousel.” she says. “You were small.”

“I used to go every year when I was a kid. I loved it.” you smile, fondly.

“Yes,” Evelyn whispers, “It was an uncommonly pleasant memory. Usually the memories triggered by feeding aren’t so…nice.”

“Do you need to feed again? You stopped kind of abruptly…”

“No, I got enough. Thank you. I feel much better now.” she smiles at you.

“Well, you can stay here until the sun goes down.” you say. “I was just going to watch Blue Planet and do laundry.”

“That sounds nice.” Evelyn says, gracing you with a genuine broad smile.

 

Later that afternoon, you fall asleep next to her on the couch, your clean laundry folded in the basket waiting to be put away. Evelyn covers you with a throw blanket. She watches your sleeping form, the rise and fall of your shoulders as you breathe, and feels an entirely-imagined lurch of her long-dead heart.


	2. The Vodyanoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erske is a vain young man, beloved by everyone. He meets his match in a mysterious stranger.

In the town of Love there is a festival, when strangers from near and far come to dance and sing and drink and court. And of all the young people of Love, none shines brighter than the Alderman’s son, Erske. For his dark romantic eyes hook the hearts of many a man, and his soft chestnut curls beckon to their fingers, and his full lips whisper promises unfulfilled.

“Will you dance, Erske?” they ask.

“I am much to thirsty to jump and cavort, and I will not dance with you.”

So he is plied with wine and beer, and dainty crystal glasses of sherry and port.

The Alderman’s son has left a trail of broken hearts in his wake a mile wide, and his beauty is famed. But none he has met have matched his exacting standards, for he knows he is lovely, and desires no one but the man who is his equal. And of course, none is the equal of beautiful Erske!

“Will you dance, dear one?” they beg.

“I am much to tired to twirl and bend, and I will not dance with you.”

So he is laid on cushions of silk and satin, and his elegant feet are rubbed with lotion.

The town of Love sits on the edge of a vast green marshland, where the fog rolls thick and the frog-song fills the night. No one traverses the marsh for fear of the vodyanoy, the marsh-men, who will carry you to the bottom of their ponds if you do not placate them with gifts of tobacco.

“Will you dance, beautiful?” they plead.

“I am much to hungry to spin and dip, and I will not dance with you.”

So he is fed quail’s eggs from their fingers, and they shiver as his lips brush their thumbs.

The festival is old, centuries old, and the town of Love is famed for it’s hospitality. Strangers are greeted like old friends, and everyone is welcomed with a wine glass pressed to their hand and a garland of flowers tossed about their neck. Love is prosperous because many beneficial matches are made at this festival, strengthening their links with the other towns.

“Will you dance with me, Erske? For I have heard of your beauty and traveled far.” he asks, a handsome stranger with a neat beard and sharp coattails.

“I have waited for one as lovely as me, and I will dance with you!”

The stranger takes fair Erske by his trim waist and leads him in the dance, all others standing outside the circle they make, weeping for their broken hearts. Erske has eyes only for the stranger, and his pale green hair, and the wide watery eyes. They spin faster as they turn, Erske’s elegant feet barely skimming the ground. Has the stranger always had water dripping from his coattails? Has his skin always been this damp?

“Will you slow down, dear stranger, for I fear I may fall!”

“You will not fall, dear Erske, for I have you now, and I wish to dance with you!”

Were his hands always webbed? Was his neck always gilled? Erske shudders in horror as he too late realizes his mistake and sees the vodyanoy plainly. But the marsh-man’s grip is too tight, his speed to great, and Erske cannot escape the whirlwind of the dance.

“What is wrong, lovely Erske? Why are you so suddenly pale?”

“I know what you are, vodyanoy, and I do not wish to dance with you!”

The vodyanoy laughs and it sounds like drowning. The bystanders shield their faces from the hurricane the marsh-man has made with his dance, the waters of the marsh rising to answer. They glimpse poor Erske’s frightened face as the waters crash down on their heads, and when the calm sets back in, the vodyanoy and poor, lovely Erske are nowhere to be seen.

In the town of Love, there is no dancing or singing, or feasting or courting. None weeps harder than the Alderman’s wife, and the young men drink to forget the terrible face of the vodyanoy, and the terrible fate of beloved Erske. For his dark romantic eyes hooked a monster, and his chestnut curls are touched by none, and his full lips lay silent.


End file.
